Regina
Floyd Merriweather wasn’t exactly what I would consider desirable. But then again, my taste for men was big and brawny. Floyd was barely taller than I was, and although he was muscular, and probably much stronger than he looked, his ballet dancer’s form was more delicate than I preferred. He wasn’t handsome, he was beautiful. But when he danced, it didn’t matter what he looked like, I got sucked into it.
It wasn’t just s****l, it was emotional. The way he danced, I could almost see an invisible partner dancing with him, a woman as petite and beautiful as Floyd was, maybe someone dark as a foil to his golden glow. And he really did seem to have a glow about him as he danced, with only a straight back chair as a prop.
When the jacket came off, there was a collective sigh in t
